Game of Thrones: Paladin of Old Gods

Hello everyone, here is a new chapter.

I would like to thank to:

[moku8]!

[Patrick Rodriguez]!!

[Sdri]!!

I don't know who you are guys, but thank you very much for your support on Ko-fi!!!

Thanks again.

For the remaining 14 days of freedom I have left, I'll attach below the link to my Buy me at Ko-fi page.

https://ko-fi.com/duncanrandargotpaladin

Thank you all for your comments and advice!

Of course, none of you are under any obligation to donate.

But if you feel the visceral urge to do so... Well, do it. AHAH!

P.S.

If you can leave a review for my Fanfiction, I'd appreciate it. Thanks in advance!

-7 days!!! ( Job is Coming))

Happy reading!

-------------------------------------

POV: Cleric Of Drowned God;

Iron Victory is about eight miles from Pike's Harbor.

About half an hour before Iron Victory managed to reach the enemy ship...

"Balon's defeat is at hand." Said a young prophet of just twenty-two with long hair and a beard.

Since the day of his first blessing some six years earlier, Aeron Greyjoy, the youngest of the sons of the former Lord of Pyke, Quellon Greyjoy, had not cared about his physical appearance.

The days of loving beer, song, and women were over for the sixteen-year-old ironman. Aeron's divine transformation had made him devoutly devoted to the god in his watery halls. Now he is an austere, humorless young man who sees every breath as a gift that is wasted if not used to extol the virtues of following the path of the Drowned God.

"He should have listened to you...

A mistake I will not make in the future." Said the chosen champion of the Drowned God in response. Aeron's older brother, captain of the Iron Victory, and lord admiral of the Iron Fleet, Victarion Greyjoy.

Since the day they were both claimed by a voice in the sea, the brotherly duo had become closer than ever.

Both the priest and the champion of their God had shown some minor skills to their brother Balon, to impress him and gain further privileges that would serve their true purpose.

They met in great secrecy to discuss matters that only they could understand...

Victarion made sure to protect his guide and the voice of his God. Aeron to lead the chosen ones on the right course across the seas.

"A very creative trick to halve the Iron Fleet's naval power.

Are you sure we can't at least make our prisoner the mastermind of that plan? He might prove a useful booty in the future... " Victarion.

"No... He is an enemy of our God. Balon is still our king by all the laws of the sea. We will not disobey his command.

When he falls, we will pursue another course." Aeron.

"How many captains will follow us on that course?" Victarion.

"Fourteen captains and fourteen ships." Aeron.

"A small number... " Victarion.

"Only the most worthy believers of our God will serve us in this mission entrusted to us by the one true God." Aeron.

"Aye, but we'll still have to find others in the future to give our god what he demands..." Victarion.

"We will... but before we embark on that journey, let us carry out our King's last order. The Drowned God also claims that tribute before us." Aeron.

"Nothing will save that tribute from its fate... Unless a storm comes." Victarion.

"The Drowned God has heard my prayers, brother. The Storm God will not hinder your hunt." Aeron.

"What do Naga's bones say? Good omens or bad?" The Captain.

"Both...

Can you see it too, Brother?" Aeron asked, pointing to a small green halo less than seven hundred feet from the bow. A glow that only two Iron Islanders could have noticed. And they were both aboard the same ship at that exact moment.

"Yes, I see it... Another chosen one? What god does he belong to?" Victarion.

"False Gods...

There is one and only one true God that matters, brother. The Drowned God.

I believe he is a man from the North. A chosen one of those who call themselves 'Old Gods'... Gods who are made of wood." Aeron.

"Wood is used to make ships, not to be worshipped.

The tree-lover stands on foreign soil that is poisonous to his saplings. We will cut him down." Victarion.

"You may underestimate the worshippers of the Old Gods, but do not underestimate the one who defeated Denys Drumm." Aeron.

"So that little boy, Bloody Snow, is their champion... That's why he managed to beat Denys in a duel.

How many blessing processes do you think he underwent?" Victarion.

"He seems to have the same intensity as you... I think he has already been called back five times. Just like you..." Aeron.

"It doesn't matter... I have defeated Denys before and I possess divine powers on par with his. His tricks won't work against me.

I have my ax, our god, a better ship, twice the number of their men, and you...

There will be no sunrise for the Champion of the Old Gods.

He will awaken reborn in the dark abyssal halls of the Drowned God." Said the 30-year old wearing his helmet in the shape of a Kraken's head.

Victarion always wore full plate armor in any fight. He was one of those few Ironborn who was not afraid to fall into the sea and be dragged into the depths of the abyss under the weight of their armor.

Aeron also wore armor. The Drowned God had also granted him the ability to adapt to heavy armor, as well as giving him the martial knowledge of the trident and the net.

Aeron had not yet been claimed from the sea for the fifth time, like Victarion. He was not yet ready. He would have to face another test.

He was sure that this was the test his god had assigned him to be worthy of increasing his powers one more time.

The divine magic of the second circle was powerful, of course, but the priest felt that at the next step he would have access to powers incredibly superior to these. Powerful weapons and means to serve the Drowned God more effectively.

A holy mission had been entrusted to him. The world was to know and worship their God. It was time for false idols to fall.

All peoples had to worship their God if they were ever to set foot on a beach. The Sea and the Oceans belonged to the servants of the Drowned God.

This was the message Aeron had translated when he prayed for three days and nights on the open sea in total solitude.

His brother Balon was a faithful believer in the Drowned God and the Old Way, but he was not the chosen one.

The True King of Salt and Stone was not Balon. That was why the Iron Islands would be drowned in blood in this war.

But after that necessary sacrifice, they would rise again.

Aeron had informed his brother of the likely fall of the Sea Throne and their brother. He had already accepted that hard truth.

Victarion also knew that it would be his turn to lead their people in the future.

He was to be the chosen one of the Drowned God to sit on the throne of salt and stone. Only then would their people and their faith prevail.

"What is dead may never die," Aeron said, waiting for his future king's reply.

"... But rise again, harder and stronger."

End POV.

------------------

POV: Paladin Of Old Gods;

Hope Lighthouse, is about ten miles from Pyke Harbour.

About thirty minutes before Victarion's ship managed to reach their target...

By now, all we could see was Iron Victory. It was still a couple of hours before dawn. It was certainly the darkest part of the long night.

The fires burning on the enemy ship gave us a clear view of the Iron Victory. We had lost the remaining twelve ships in that small fleet by at least two miles.

Even if the battle had started at that exact moment, the Ironmen reinforcements would not have arrived until ten minutes after the battle began.

According to Davos, Victarion would not reach us for another twenty to thirty minutes. It was a constant head-to-head on speed.

Ser Davos had the harpoons dropped and everything that wasn't extremely necessary emptied. The ship was beginning to feel too light.

By sacrificing stability and risking massive damage to the ship's hull, our great captain had managed to gain another half-knot of speed.

Of course, there was a price to pay... By now, almost half the Frost Blades and a quarter of the crew had given up. The jolting of the hull was so violent it made even experienced sailors seasick.

At least a dozen waves had already hit almost every crew member on our ship, including myself.

But we had to hold on...

If we lasted at least another thirty minutes, our realistic estimate was that our reinforcements would also arrive at the same time as Ironfleet. Then victory would have been ours.

But the bloody price we would pay for that victory was yet to be decided.

After a couple of minutes, I noticed something that troubled me deeply...

A couple of lights that stood out from the others and that I hadn't noticed before...

Two lights that could not be generated by ordinary light sources.

'Fuck!... I knew that Victarion could be a possible ''Paladin of the Drowned God'', but I didn't think that Aeron would also accompany him in this fight! How could I have missed the double light!

This miscalculation could have cost us all our lives.' I thought while keeping a cool head.

It was no longer the time to hide the cards. I would soon have to play everything.

If Aeron had already reached the fifth cleric level, he would be an even bigger threat than Victarion.

The area spells of the third circle were not to be trifled with...

Luckily for us, it seemed that one of the two lights was less intense than the other.

There was still hope.

'If we fought in a 2 vs 1, I don't know if I would be able to win. If well-coordinated, a Cleric + Paladin party can be deadly. Even stronger than a Mage + Warrior of the same level in this specific situation. We'll have to fight dirty and dishonorably to get out of this alive...' I thought with slight shame.

In the past, I had already thrown a few nasty punches at my opponents, and I would have no problem using even dirtier means. But in this situation, I really should have brought out the worst in myself...' I thought.

'Good thing Zick won't be here to witness this dishonorable debacle.' I thought out loud.

"Excuse me, Lord General?" William asked beside me.

"... The enemy is more dangerous than I imagined, William.

We must bring out the heavy weapons." I explained.

"Do you mean 'The Casket', my Lord?" William asked with astonishment and a slight hint of fear. Indeed, we had only practiced this kind of tactic in theory. The practical exercise would have cost too much in gold and resources.

It had taken Qyburn six months of work and over eight thousand gold coins of rare materials to create that one-off chest.

I had explained to him in broad strokes what kind of weapons were inside that chest that only the key currently hanging around my neck could open.

"Yes, William. We will use Ser Qyburn's chest...

How many goggles and protective masks do we have with us?" I asked.

"... We have enough masks for everyone, but we only have thirty-four goggles left, General." William.

"Then Ser Davos, and the sixteen sailors least fit for combat, are to remain tightly sealed inside the Captain's cabin.

Begin distributing the goggles to everyone and foretell what will happen in this battle, Vice Commander William...

Pandemonium will break out on this vessel shortly." I said stating a certainty.

"Yes, General!" William did not hesitate for a second. He prepared to carry out my every order to the best of his ability and in the shortest possible time.

When I made sure I was alone, I said in a low voice in the direction of Iron Victory:

"You like to play rough, venerators of the Drowned God?

Dirty game it is.

You may have more divine power at your disposal, but I'm far more experienced in this game than you are.

Go ahead, take your dice and 'Roll for Initiative'."

End POV.

--------------------------------------------------

POV: Paladin of Drowned God;

Iron Victory. Less than a hundred feet from their prey ship.

About twenty minutes after a chest was opened with great care and attention...

"ARCHERS, FIRE!" Shouted the ship's quartermaster, Nute 'The Barber'.

He was Ironman's best marauder under Victarion's command. A boy in his early twenties who was so adept at throwing an ax that he could even cut strands of hair without drawing a single drop of blood.

It was already the fourth wave of flaming arrows the Iron Victory had fired at the ship. The fire had hardly taken root anywhere.

In all likelihood, every inch of that ship was soaked in seawater.

The enemy had not yet responded to the attack. A few sailors and men could already be glimpsed taking cover in many places on the waiting ship.

They're looking for a melee so... You should never give the enemy what he's looking for. But... I prefer a melee too!' Victarion thought excitedly.

Every inch of his body was protected by a thick sheet of steel. That armor alone weighed at least seventy pounds. A more than bearable weight for the mammoth Victarion Greyjoy.

He was only three inches short of seven feet in height. His chest was as broad as a bull, his arms long and thick.

He was probably the strongest man in Pyke. Immediately after the battle against the Royal Fleet, in which the Iron Fleet was defeated, Victarion was summoned for the fifth time by his God. The same painful process that increased his divine gifts.

And for the fifth time, a numerical list appeared before him.

Willpower and charisma had increased from five years earlier.

His statistics cited:

Strength: 20

Dexterity: 12

Constitution: 18

Perception: 14

Will: 16

Intelligence: 11

Charisma: 15

Victarion was always a little annoyed by that eleven in intelligence, but he was also aware that he was never the most cunning and wise of the Greyjoys. As a young man, he only had an interest in reading texts about maritime notions and warfare. Everything else was unimportant and boring...

He could leave everything else to the cowardly rats in the libraries.

He was a man of action, not knowledge.

Luckily for him, he could also count on the help of his brother Aeron.

His younger brother knew every sacred Drowned God text by heart. Not surprisingly, Aeron had an honest [15] in intelligence.

"FIFTY FEET TO IMPACT!" Shouted the boatswain.

"All right... MEN! PREPARE! LET'S REMIND THOSE FLEEING COWARDS WHY THEY SHOULD NEVER COME NEAR OUR SEAS!!!" Incited Victarion, gathering over fifty men ready for the assault.

"YEAARGH!!!" Replied the marauding Ironmen.

"THIRTY FEET!!!" Warned the boatswain.

"READY WITH THE BRIDGE!" Victarion.

The men obeyed. Immediately four crew members positioned themselves at the edges of the two levers.

'They still maintain a high speed... They do this to lessen the force of impact between the two vessels...

They have a capable captain. But that still won't save them... ' Victarion's bloodlust was through the roof. He was one of the few warriors from the Iron Islands who could maintain control of his emotions and unleash a murderous aura at the same time.

Only Denys Drumm was a real challenge for him on those islands. And he couldn't wait to cross axes with the warrior who had claimed his life.

Nothing was more thrilling than this moment. Facing a true warrior in his chosen terrain, with the smell of the sea breeze, the salt spray on his face, and the cold wind helping to cool his steel and leather-clad body.

The man had been born to raid and fight at sea.

"TEN FEET!" Boatswain.

"Now brother..." said Victarion picking up his shield and ax.

Aeron prepared to perform the first support spell. A second circle spell that didn't require concentration. The duo had to be careful not to get too far apart. If they were more than sixty feet away from each other the spell would end.

Aeron performed the first divine magic.

[Warding Bond.]

The Drowned God's priest could only use a maximum of two more spells from the second circle and four from the first.

But they were more than enough for this battle...

"IMPACT!" The boatswain.

A bump shook the craft, causing a couple of men to lose their balance, but they promptly got back up afterward.

"NOW! LOWER THE DECK!" The levers were released.

An iron harpooned bridge lowered onto the enemy ship, hooking firmly into the wood.

"ATTACK!!!" A dozen men in the front row charged across the twenty-five-foot-long bridge at the far end of the bow.

"Nute. I always want you and at least six men to stay behind to protect Aeron. Clear?" Victarion.

"Yes, Captain!" Nute unsheathed his double-throwing axes remaining a few steps behind his captain's brother.

Victarion charged forward. It was already his turn to board.

The Iron Victory was at least five feet taller and almost twice as long and wide as the Longship stolen by the enemy.

They could easily dock at the top of the stern. And so they did. The docking was simple and clean.

Even too clean for Victarion's taste...

Already on deck, the man hardened by a hundred battles on enemy ships sensed that something was wrong.

He could not yet hear the clang of steel or the usual cries of a fierce struggle.

Together with ten other trusted men, the Paladin of the Drowned God had finally arrived on the enemy ship.

All his men were still there safe and sound. But they seemed to have regrouped and stopped for some reason.

No need to ask...

Victarion was also slightly impressed.

The enemy had gathered waiting at the bow in full formation... but that wasn't what stopped the pace of the ironmen charge...

It was the faces.

All of them wore strange, never-before-seen masks in the shape of bird beaks and strange glass visors. A very disturbing and peculiar sight.

There were at least thirty armed men in five rows, with one boy wielding a prized red bastard blade at the head of the group...

Victarion stepped forward.

"Ready to greet us, smiling tree lovers. Are you Bloody Snow?" The Captain asked, taking the opportunity to meet his future opponent in person.

It was an event more unique than rare. Never before had an Iron Victory assault been so 'diplomatic and calm'.

"I am, squid lover." The boy replied.

"Why are you wearing those masks? Don't you want to show your terrified faces during the fight?" Victarion asked, taking a few steps forward. Several of his men laughed with predatory looks.

The two sides were well aligned. The Ironborns had also had time to gather, but unlike their enemy, there were more than sixty of them.

Aeron was safely in a high position above the quarterdeck at the stern along with his chosen guards. From that position, he could easily have a clear unobstructed view for his spells.

"Partly yes, Captain..." The man was surprised and confused by the answer he had just received. But then the boy added:

"Another of the reasons is to protect all of us from blindness and the unstoppable urge to vomit up our entrails as well...

NOW! FIRE AT WILL!!!"